


Rain Check

by QueenDollopHead



Series: Zukka Week 2021 [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 5 + 1, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author does not kill the boys, Fluff, Inspired by How I Met Your Mother, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Multi, Online Dating, Strangers to Lovers, Zukka Week 2021, the last 5ish minutes of the finale are not canon here, wedding shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 23:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30113499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenDollopHead/pseuds/QueenDollopHead
Summary: Zukka WeekDay 5:College AU///5+1Five times Sokka and Zuko almost meet, and the time they finally do.Inspired by the showHow I Met Your Mother.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka Week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209653
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94





	Rain Check

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [agni_kai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agni_kai) and [snymph12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snymph12/pseuds/snymph12) for beta-ing! 
> 
> [[While events are inspired by the show _How I Met Your Mother_ , knowledge of that show is not a prerequisite for reading this.]]

1.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day. Jet somehow manages to convince him to go out with him for drinks, but the club that they’re in is Zuko’s literal worst nightmare. Jet’s been dancing and chatting with everyone who comes up to them, but Zuko is a dark thundercloud of angst. 

“Will you lighten up?” Jet says, elbowing him. “It’s St. Paddy’s Day! Time to let your hair down and make out with a stranger.”

“You know me _so_ well,” Zuko grumbles. “Couldn’t we have picked, I dunno, a _bar?_ ”

“Sorry pal, no dive bars tonight.” says Jet. “Now if you’re not gonna have fun, at least _try_ to be a good wingman.” 

Zuko sighs. His last rum and coke did little to loosen him up. And he supposes Jet _was_ making an attempt to cheer him up after his shitshow of a week, even if it’s in his own emotionally constipated way. He nods and bounces on his feet enough to look like half-assed dancing. Jet grins, and shockingly does not comment on his lack of effort. “How about the blond in black crop top?” Zuko gestures with his chin.

Jet looks over his shoulder, then turns back to him. “Too high-maintenance.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “I thought you liked high-maintenance?” 

“On girls, not dudes.” Jet scoffs. “What else ya got?” 

“I dunno Jet,” he looks around. “Red-head by the bathroom?”

“Hmmm….” Jet looks the girl up and down. She’s got an emerald tank top and black jeans, long red-hair tied back into a high ponytail. “Sure, I can go for some spice.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Oh don’t pull a face,” Jet says. “I meant her _drink–_ jalapeño marga _ri-_ ta!”

Zuko scowls. “There’s no way you can see her drink from here.” 

Jet’s grin is wolfish, he shrugs. “So sue me.”

All the same, Jet sends him in to lay the groundwork. It's only a few minutes later that Jet comes over and grabs him by the shoulder. “Zuko, _there_ you are!”

“Hey man,” Zuko greets, patting his buddy on the back. “I was just chatting with Cristy here– you two watch the same shit TV shows.”

“ _Excuse_ me!” Cristy laughs, pointing her margarita at him. Huh. It really _was_ a jalapeño marg. “‘ _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ ’ is hysterical!”

“How good are those cold-opens?” Jet asks.

“Um, _the best_!” says Cristy. “The one where they open on the NSYNC song–”

“And the one with the _marshmallow??_ ”

“Classic!”

“You’ll have to excuse my buddy here,” Jet nods his head towards him. “Not everyone can have exquisite taste like us.”

“Oh really?” Cristy says, leaning forward, smirking. “And what _else_ makes you think we have similar taste?”

Zuko waits anxiously for his cue to leave.

“Well for starters, we both like your top,” Jet pointedly looks at her chest, then back up at her face. She doesn’t slap him, so he’s doing well so far. “We both like tequila…” he clinks her glass. They both take a sip. Jet takes a daring step closer. “We both look good wearing your lipstick…” 

Cristy’s smirk widens, a flash of _something_ across her eyes. “Not sure this shade matches your skin tone,” she challenges.

“Prove me wrong?” He offers, leaning in.

Zuko sees her reach up to close the distance, and turns on his heel. Luckily, the men’s bathroom never has a line. When he returns, he sees the two are still elegantly sucking face. He scrolls through his Instagram while he waits. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance Jet will get thrown out trying to turn a single into a double, but after 15 minutes, Zuko decides he’s done waiting.

He knows Jet won’t mind if he leaves. He’s tried his best to cheer him up, save for taking him some place that’s _actually_ fun. He taps Jet on the shoulder before he leaves, and he and Cristy decide that Jet does, in fact, look good with the lipstick.

“Don’t wait up,” Jet winks, before diving back in.

* * *

Sokka loves any excuse to accessorize. This St. Patrick’s Day, he found all kinds of necklaces and green bracelets to go with his shamrock headband. Suki and him split the pack of green fishnet gloves. It’s their third club of the night, and Aang and Katara look dangerously close to ditching them, but Sokka offers to make a fool of himself on the dance floor in exchange for 30 more minutes.

Parched, he makes a dive for the bar and orders a cup of ice water.

“Sure I can’t buy you something a little stiffer?”

Sokka looks up to see this leather-jacketed jackass eyeing him. “Weren’t you just grinding with that girl over there?” He asks, eyeing the redhaired girl strutting toward the bathroom.

He opens his arms. “Plenty of me to go around,” he says, raising his brows suggestively.

“I’ll pass,” Sokka says, accepting the water from the bartender.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs. Another bartender drops off the guy’s _two_ drinks, and he passes thirty bucks to him before turning away with the drinks.

Well, at least he’s a generous tipper.

A half hour turns into 45 minutes, then suddenly almost two hours have passed.

The door to the club bangs open, bringing in the smell of spring rain. 

“Damnit Sokka!” Katara says, punching his shoulder. “I knew we should have left earlier– now it’s _raining_.”

Sokka, solution master extraordinaire, scans the room as they complain. Aang brought an umbrella of his own, but it wasn’t big enough to fit the four of them. He ducks around the edge of the bar, and finds his prize propped up in the corner. 

_Bingo_.

* * *

Zuko’s up late, lying in bed and scrolling through his phone when he hears the rumble of thunder, followed by the forecasted downpour.

 _Shit_. He thinks, opening up his messages.

**_Hey, can you grab my umbrella on your way out?_ **

Jet, to his credit, replies immediately.

_sorry dude, already at Cristy’s place_ ;)

Zuko groans. He’s not stupid enough to think that some asshole hadn’t already swiped his umbrella.

To be fair, he doesn’t really need one lying in bed.

Oh well. He’ll just have to order a new one.

_totally struck out with some beefcake at the bar after you left_

**_Were you seriously trying to have a three-way on St. Patrick’s Day?_ **

_the luck of the Irish was not upon me_

**_Probably because you’re not Irish_ **

2.

Sokka knows that the lady at “Love Solutions” is _so_ full of it. How some glorified sideshow act ended up becoming a self-proclaimed matchmaker is beyond him.

Even worse, this _Aunt Wu_ claims to have a 100% success rate according to Suki.

“It’s her hook,” Suki had explained. “She even brought some of her happy couples onto the show with their families!”

Naturally this was all part of some ploy to find Sokka a partner. 

“You haven’t been the same since Yue died…” Katara says, gripping his shoulder. “Can’t you just… _try_ it?”

“Katara, plenty of people can live fulfilled lives without ever settling down.”

“Sokka, you’re a _sap_. You’ve always wanted that life for yourself–”

“Well I _had_ it!” Sokka snaps, none too kindly. “Yue was… incredible, beautiful… we _worked_ together. _That_ was my ‘the one’.”

Katara frowns. “So Bato and dad–”

“This isn’t about _them_ , this is about _me_.” Sokka says. This time, Katara’s glare cuts him like ice. He ought to apologize for interrupting her. “Of course I understand how they feel about each other, Katara. I just… don’t think I’m lucky enough to get a second shot at love.”

He looks away when he sees his sister’s expression shift– he can take the heat of her anger, but her sad, pleading eyes bring up too many memories. He accepts her embrace, and reluctantly agrees to go, if only to make his sister worry about him just a little less.

Which takes him to…

“So, Mister…”

“Fire,” Sokka nods. “Wang Fire.”

“Yes, I see,” Aunt Wu says, peering over the edge of her clipboard. “Well Mr. Fire, you seem to be quite busy as a–”

“Garbage man, yes,” he says. “Full time, but I also have a part time gig painting–”

“Houses, yes.” Aunt Wu says. Her tone is markedly clipped. She lays down her clipboard on the desk, folds her hands and scrutinizes him. He does his best to not let her stare rile him up, but just looking at her pisses him off. “Your life is full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted.”

Sokka scrunches his nose up in distaste. 

“Case in point– this,” she gestures to his application. “Choosing to self-sabotage instead of taking a chance on love again.”

He tilts his chin up defiantly.

“Luckily for you, your friends know you pretty well,” Aunt Wu says, and if her scowl wasn’t annoying enough, her pleased grin cements the fact that he detests this woman. “Your sister and Suki figured you’d pull something like this, so they sent in an application on your behalf.”

At this, Sokka finally lets his shoulders sag. “I refuse to pay money for this utter BS you’re pedaling.”

“100% success rate,” Aunt Wu reminds, then. “Your friends already covered the expense, so you might as well cooperate and confirm what your friends said about your preferences.”

So, Sokka cooperates. And at the end, she tells him: “He’s out there, we’ll find him.”

“Or _she_ ,” Sokka challenges. Not that he has any faith in Aunt Wu finding his “soulmate”.

But Aunt Wu simply smiles, humming a quiet nose that _isn’t quite in agreement_.

Whatever. He’s done. Nothing will ever come of this, anyways.

* * *

Zuko’s phone rings while he’s waiting for the bus. “Hello?”

“Mr. Sozin?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Aunt Wu from ‘ _Love Connections’,_ ” she says. “We’ve found him.”

Zuko almost hangs up, thinking this a prank. But then he remembers the day Ty Lee strong-armed him into filling out a survey, about a mystical lady claiming to do the impossible.

It was nearly 6 months ago, and he hadn’t let that flutter of _What if?_ last more than a week before snuffing it out. It was his armor. It protected him when months went by with no results, when Ty Lee shyly admitted that she had called on his behalf and reported that they hadn’t found anybody.

“Are you sure you don’t like women?” Aunt Wu had asked, when he politely requested his money back. “Not even a little bi-curious?”

In the end, she had promised to keep looking for him. Offered to do it for free so long as he didn’t contest her 100% success rate. He wondered if she had struck a similar deal before.

Still, it was awfully convenient that she calls him _now_ , a few months before his friend’s wedding. Jin had insisted on giving him a plus one, and Zuko was dreading the impending deadline. He was originally just going to invite Jet to tag along, but he hadn’t extended the invitation quite yet. Perhaps his traitorous heart still held on to the sliver of hope that he might yet find someone. 

Before he can regret it, he says: “Set it up.”

* * *

“This guy isn’t real,” Sokka says, reading the paper to his sister and Suki. It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours since he met Aunt Wu, and this morning he had received an email with the details on his “soulmate”.

“Then why’d you print it out?” Aang chides, sliding into the booth next to Katara.

“To make a _point_!” Sokka says, thumping his hand against it. “Listen– he’s a finance guy, but he also works part time at his Uncle’s _coffee shop_ , he likes fencing, writing…”

“Has a cat…” Suki adds, reading over his shoulder.

“This isn’t even a convincing human,” Sokka shakes his head, plopping the paper on the table. “It sounds like she just played mad-libs with a few different career-hobby generators and just… wrote it down.”

Aang picks up the paper. “He’s big into Sci-Fi, too, apparently, an amateur musician–”

“Well _duh_ , Aang,” Sokka says. “Aunt Wu has my profile, too. Of course she’s going to _sprinkle-_ ” he gestures over the table. “-in some of the things I appreciate in a partner.” 

Just then, Sokka notices that Toph has arrived. And Sokka prays that she will choose the opportunity to be cynical, and not the far more likely option of teasing him relentlessly. She pulls up a chair next to their booth, then spins it around so she’s sitting with her arms folded over the back, leaning toward them with interest.

Not a promising sign. 

“So Sokka’s got a crush?”

Ugh.

“No, _Toph,_ ” Sokka says. “If you must know, _Aunt Wu_ thinks she’s found my ideal match.”

“So, prove her wrong,” Toph shrugs. “Go on the date.”

Sokka seethes as Suki laughs next to him. “She’s got you there, babe,” she says. “If you refuse to go– you’re letting her win!”

So Sokka lets Aunt Wu tell him the date and time. He puts it in his calendar, eager to meet this so-called “fencing/writer/musician” dude– if only to prove Katara wrong.

A week later, he’s waiting at the restaurant. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he’s been watching the door for any signs of the actor who might ‘slip into character’ for his performance as the most quirky, multifaceted dude on the planet.

After a few minutes, he gives in to the urge to check his phone.

_Toph: Good luck, kid! Use protection!_

_Katara: Keep an open mind– good things can happen when you least expect them. Aang sends his love._

_Suki: If you need me to bail you out, just text “fluffer nutter” and I’ll call you!_

_Unknown sender: I’m so sorry… something happened with my sister. Can we reschedule?_

Sokka takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. This just affirms what he already knew. He had his chance, had his true love already. Aunt Wu had staged this whole thing. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was her number.

Still, you’d think someone trying to protect their success rate would put in a little bit more effort.

When the waiter circles back, Sokka apologizes, places his order to take-out instead, then offers the table to a couple waiting at the bar.

* * *

Jet insisted that he borrow his car to pick her up. Zuko is already halfway out the door when Jet reminds him to text his date to cancel. He quickly types out the message while he’s rushing down the stairs, miraculously not crashing into any of his neighbors.

He feels his heart race the entire drive to his childhood home. He has never considered himself _lucky_ before now. Has never considered his father’s disinterest a mercy, until he sees Azula coming toward him down the driveway. He rolls down the window to try and say something to her– perhaps words of comfort.

That is a mistake.

He hears his father’s voice. “You called your _brother_ to come rescue you?” Cruel, familiar laughter. “You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

Azula says nothing the whole drive to his apartment. Zuko doesn’t ask– he doesn’t spy any bumps or bruises, but his mind races with the possibilities. 

He has a vice grip on the steering wheel, but when Azula props her elbow up on the center console, he doesn’t hesitate to reach for her hand. She’s staring resolutely in front of her, keeping her face measuredly blank, but when his fingers squeeze hers, he thinks he sees her eyes soften. So of course, she closes her eyes.

Tonight’s not the night to talk about it, he’s just so glad she texted him. That she let him come to help her.

Jet is in his room when they get home.

She doesn’t comment on the size of his apartment, doesn’t accept the invitation to take his bed for the night. 

After she changes, he hands her a few blankets and pillows for the couch. He doesn’t offer their mother’s linens, not tonight.

He wishes her goodnight, but she catches him by the elbow before he turns into his room. When he faces her, she is looking down at the ground, considering.

This is his _sister_. When she takes a deep breath, he pulls her into a hug. It’s stiff, crushing on both ends, but comforting in an odd way.

They haven’t hugged since Azula was in kindergarten, he realizes. Around the time the “gifted and talented” test results came home, and Ozai took her under his wing; when the competitions and coaches and tutors came to polish her into the perfect daughter.

But now, they’re here, together. Free.

They can do this. 

In bed later, he sees that his date never texted back.

3.

“Mr. Arnook said there’s an opening at the university.”

Sokka frowns against his phone. He adjusts his shoulder to press it more fully to his ear. “I think I have enough degrees for now, dad.” He says, ignoring the sting at hearing the name of his late beloved’s father.

Hakoda laughs. “I _meant_ as an adjunct, they’re looking for someone to take on an _Into to Architecture_ class.”

Sokka chews his lip. “I dunno dad…” he says. “I’m not sure I really want to _teach_ it so much as _be_ it, ya know?”

“I just think you need a change of pace, son,” Hakoda says. And damn him and Katara for worrying about him so much. Can’t he just make it one conversation without being reminded that he’s been hurt? “You said that things have been quiet at your firm, that they haven’t brought in any new clients.”

Sokka hums his concession, that much is true at least.

“Besides, you _loved_ working with kids at the summer camp growing up!”

That makes Sokka laugh. “I’d hardly consider a bunch of undergraduate students ‘kids’,” he says.

“True,” Hakoda says. “But you’re– what, 30 now? And you’re still a kid in my eyes.”

Sokka rolls his eyes, laughing fondly. “I’m not just winning Lego building competitions anymore, dad.”

“I know, I know,” Hakoda says. “I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished, son, never doubt that. But consider it, okay? Everyone needs a change now and again.”

So Sokka considers it, and eventually, he ends up accepting the position.

On his first day, he gets there an hour early. He spends almost 20 minutes writing and re-writing his name on the white board until he’s satisfied with its seemingly-playful offset letters. It is neat without meaning to be, as was his intention.

Still, he waits off in the wings of the auditorium as his class filters in. He wants to make an _entrance,_ even if it isn’t exactly authentic. It’s better than either having to pretend not to notice the people filtering in, or make awkward small talk with the people he’s supposed to be more or less in charge of.

When his watch ticks the half-hour, he strides to center stage and begins.

Well, not _stage_ , really. But if these students are going to listen to him lecture about architecture for nearly two hours, then it might as well be an episode of the Sokka Show.

The Pilot!

* * *

Zuko prays that this won’t be a participation-based class. Nothing in his previous coursework had been particularly group-project-y, but those few dreaded core classes had nearly been the death of him. Even if it was how he met his now-roommate, he never wanted to go through the pain of a group presentation ever again.

(Jet was a terrible project partner, did almost none of the work, but had all of the charisma and timing of a scholar when it came time for the presentation. Had they ever overlapped in classes again, their friendship would have never continued.)

Still, with so many unknowns and surprises lately, he was nervous for his first day back in school. Azula was taking shifts at the Jasmine Dragon for the time being, and was living with their Uncle in the apartment above it. The two were still learning what they meant to each other, but it wasn’t tense anymore. Awkward here and there– _yeah_ ; he had ended up taking Jet to Jin’s wedding as originally planned. He doesn’t imagine that Azula would have enjoyed her time there, especially not knowing anyone but him.

Gone were the rivalries, the shouting matches, the hurtful jabs to take each other down. Back when Zuko had told them over dinner that he was going back to school for creative writing, Azula had smiled– actually _smiled_ , he was thankful for his Uncle’s crushing embrace, or else he surely would have collapsed at the rare sight.

He watches the clock anxiously, alternating quick glances behind him to see if he could catch his professor coming up to the door. Right on schedule, the professor walks out to the podium and introduces himself.

Speaking of _surprises_. 

He couldn’t believe this gorgeous specimen of a man was a creative type. He looks as though he’d been carved out of marble by a masterful hand before being _plopped_ right in the middle of the small auditorium. Still, he speaks with passion and enthusiasm, smiling brightly as jokes fall from a perfect mouth.

It isn’t until he starts going over the syllabus that his words begin to register.

Looking around, he sees a few puzzled faces amongst his peers. He leans forward to the next row and whispers to the guy in front of him. “Uh… are _you_ here for Intro to Architecture?”

The guy scoffs, looks over his shoulder and grins. “None of us are,” he says. “This guy is definitely in the wrong room.”

Zuko feels guilty for a second, considers telling the poor man about his misfortune, when suddenly, the professor's voice is calling to them. “Oi, you!” They turn to the front of the room. Zuko feels his face heat, heart race. “Yeah you, ponytail! Got something to share?” 

Zuko reaches for his hair and is thrilled to feel it spilling over his shoulders. He leans back as the guy in front of him tilts his chin up. “You’re in the wrong class, bro.”

Well, _that_ man must be straight if he managed to stay composed while speaking with the likes of _him_. 

The professor scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sorry pal, this is Intro to Architecture, if you’re supposed to be somewhere else, I suggest you–”

Just then, the door behind him bangs open, and Zuko, having not recovered from his embarrassment, nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Sorry for being late everyone– this is English 206; please take out your syllabus and turn to page…”

“Oh my _god_ ,” says the man at the front of the room, gathering all of his belongings. He quickly throws his bag over his shoulder and darts past Zuko and their actual professor on his way out of the room, mumbling under his breath.

Zuko looks up at the clock and sees that fifteen minutes have passed. He slinks back in his chair, letting out cathartic exhale. “That’s rough, buddy.”

He watches his professor erase the name from the whiteboard and start to write his own.

But even after it’s gone, Zuko remembers the name of the poor sap who, minutes earlier, had made one hell of a first impression.

_Sokka._

* * *

Toph and Katara were _cracking up_ at his expense. “The _wrong_ class?” Katara wheezes.

“Only you, Snoozles!” 

“Haha. My life sucks, we get it, thanks,” Sokka says rolling his eyes. “Ugh, it was _so awkward_. And no one _stopped me_!! I just kept talking!”

Suki pats his shoulders sympathetically, but he can see by the draw of her mouth that she’s hardly resisting bursting out laughing. She brings a hand to her mouth, swallowing a cackle when he fixes her with a look. “Tell us about the rest of your day.” 

And thankfully, the rest of the day had gone okay. The adrenaline rush from sprinting across campus carried him through a pretty energized lecture. Whether he was meant to follow this path or not, he rather enjoyed teaching so far.

He felt magnetic, important, intelligent during his lecture. He got to share something he _loved_ with students chasing the same dream. It felt a lot like fate.

If he believed in such crap.

4.

“So Sokka, when are we going to meet this girl you’ve been seeing?” Aang asks.

Sokka shrugs. “We’re not really _official_ yet, ya know?” He says. “Just a few dates here and there, grabbing coffee during our lunch hour.”

Toph, with her scarily accurate aim, slaps him upside the head. “Asshat, you didn’t even tell me you were seeing anyone!”

He belatedly swats her hand away. “What, you want me to send out a newsletter every time I go on a date?”

She crosses her arms. “ _No_.”

And…

Ah, right. Blind.

“Her name is Ty Lee,” Sokka says with a grin. “She’s pretty cute, she’s writing a thesis for her Master’s in Psychology. Her advisor’s office is right next to mine.” 

“ _And_?” Katara insists, nudging him under the table.

“And _what_ , Katara?” Sokka asks. “Can’t people like, get to know each other at their own pace? It’s been like a week.”

“So that’s what you’re doing today, huh?” Suki returns, leaning in.

He knows it’s a trap, but she’s staring right through him. “Uh-huh.”

Suki nods, her eyes narrow. “Trudging over to her house, _in the rain_ , on a Friday night… to ‘ _get to know her better_ ’?”

Sokka swallows. “Actually it’s an _apartment_ , so…”

“How many condoms you got in your wallet?” Toph asks.

“Toph, _gross_ , that’s my brother!”

“Wearing _that_?” Aang gasps.

Sokka stands up. “Anyways, it’s been real, but I gotta go now…” he grabs his coat and umbrella.

“Why? Your booty call isn’t for another hour,” Suki says, grinning wickedly.

“He has to go fix his hair,” Aang says, tilting his chin up. Katara giggles next to him.

Sokka goes home and changes. And fixes his hair– _I mean, just ‘cause_ **_you_ ** _can pull off a bald head means you can judge those of us who actually have hair, Aang!_ – before heading over to the address Ty Lee had given him.

“Hey!” She greets as she opens the door. He leans down to give her a peck on the cheek, she leans up to land her own kiss on his nose. It’s cute, and it makes him smile. “Come in!”

He leans his umbrella against the door, shrugging off his jacket to hang on the coat rack. “How’s your thesis going?” he asks, moving to sit on the couch. She stops him. 

“Actually my roommate’s having a friend over… can we talk in my room?”

As if he could say no to an offer like that.

She leads him to her room, and as Sokka closes the door behind him, she climbs onto her bed and sits up in the middle of it, legs crossed. She watches him with bright eyes and a warm smile.

And, joking aside, Sokka is a gentleman, he’s not going to be presumptuous enough to tackle the tiny girl into her pillows his first time over. So, he looks around, looking for something to make polite chatter over. Sokka’s good at talking, he can do this.

He spies a book on her nightstand: _‘Love Amongst the Dragons’._

“I _love_ this book!” Sokka cries, holding it up. “I’ve read it maybe 5 or 6 times, what part are you on?” 

Ty Lee shrugs. “My friend actually just dropped that off for me to borrow,” she explains. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Oh,” Sokka deflates. Swing and a miss. He looks around again, picks up a coffee mug from her windowsill. “Well this mug is _hysterical_ , who doesn’t love Garfield? ‘ _Mondays’_.” He says, mimicking Garfield’s scowl.

“My friend’s,” Ty Lee says. “Left it in here earlier.”

He places the mug back on the window, he should quit now, but then he spies a rubber duck on her shelf. “Okay, but– how cute is this??” He gives his tush a little squeeze and the ducky squeaks in return.

“A gift… from my friend,” Ty Lee says, her signature smile faltering. “He collects them.”

Sokka nods dumbly. “You have some cool friends,” he says, sitting down on the corner of her bed. She arches a brow and he chuckles awkwardly. Sokka leans toward her mentally reminding himself to be _chill_ dammit. “Which means _you’re_ pretty cool yourself, _and_ have great taste.”

It feels good to put the smile back on her face, even better when she starts to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek as they share their first real kiss.

At first, it’s soft and gentle, quiet exploring. But then, he parts his lips to breathe, moves back in and– well, more of the same. Sokka starts to tip her backward, but freezes at the hand on his chest. He leans back immediately to give her space, waits for her to speak.

“Sorry,” she starts, reaching for her braid. “It’s just… shouldn’t there be a spark?” 

Sokka resists the urge to scoff, instead tilting his head to look at her. “It was our first kiss,” he reminds her. “But if there’s something you didn’t like, I’m pretty coachable,” he offers.

“That’s sweet Sokka, really,” she says, her eyes sad. “I’m just not feeling like we really _get_ each other.”

“Is this about me picking out your friends’ stuff?” Sokka asks, laughing to diffuse the discomfort. “Because– they should probably keep their shit at their own apartment.”

Ty Lee giggles at this, but the ice isn’t thawed. “It’s a little bit about that,” she concedes. “All of the things in my room are so _personal_ … so _me_ …” she explains, and Sokka gets the hint, but lets her finish. “And the things that you liked in here… are the few things that aren’t mine.”

He sighs, relaxing his shoulders.

“I want my person to just… _get_ me, you know? To like everything about me, the things that make me unique.”

And Sokka does feel just a bit guilty in that moment for not recognizing those items, but still… “Forgive me, this all is just a bit crazy for me,” he starts. “I thought we were just starting out? We didn’t even get a chance to learn what this really is.”

“Sokka, do you want to marry me?” 

The question catches him off guard, but his answer rings loud and clear in his brain. “No.” he says.

Ty Lee taps his hand on the mattress. “I want _love_ , Sokka, a partner. Not just someone to kiss and watch movies with,” she says. “Call me a romantic, but I want my person to look at me and think ‘ _Yeah_ ’ or ‘ _Maybe someday_ ’, ‘ _I’m gonna marry that girl’_ .” Her gaze hurts when she looks at him, resembling Katara’s pitying expression. “The fact that your gut says ‘ _No_ ,’ tells me that you’re not my person.”

Sokka sighs; the guilt is back full force. He knows damn well that he and Ty Lee weren’t heading toward anything serious, and he hadn’t realized that she was looking for something more. He feels guilty for being so ignorant of her feelings.

“And something tells me,” Ty Lee says, breaking him from his thoughts. “That you’re pretty closed off to the idea of marriage altogether.”

_Damn Psych majors._

“I didn’t use to be,” Sokka admits. It’s weird, for someone who just dumped him, he still feels connected to her– as though he could trust her. So he tells a story that he hasn’t told a new face in years. “I loved once; truly, deeply– sparks and butterflies and all that crap. And then I lost her, far too soon. And… I just _knew_ that she would be my one and only.”

Ty Lee squeezes his arm, so he adds. “I’m sorry if I misled you… I guess it was irresponsible of me, knowing how I feel about this.”

Ty Lee shakes her head, her eyes and grip firm. “Sokka, listen to me,” she says. “Putting a wall around your heart isn’t going to stop you from getting hurt, no matter how important that control is to you, it isn’t protecting you.” 

Her tone is insistent, absolute as if daring to contradict her. Sokka tries his best to disagree. But as he shakes his head, he feels himself– to his horror, getting choked up. 

“You’re just locking everyone else out… you _can_ find love again. The only one stopping you is _you_.”

Sokka laughs, loud and uncomfortable, a single tear slides down his cheek. “You hear yourself?” he asks. “So cheesy.” But there’s no heat behind it. She scoots over, leans her head against his shoulder. He accepts the comfort, wrapping an arm around her waist.

They sit that way for a moment before he finds his voice again. “ _My_ turn to give you some unsolicited advice,” he says to her wall. She hums a sound of assent. “If you have even the _slightest_ inkling that you have feelings for someone, promise you’ll chase it?”

Ty Lee jabs a finger against his ribs. “You’re one to talk, Tin Man.” 

Sokka shakes his head, holds her tighter. “I mean it,” he says, and she stops. “I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my years, but the best thing I ever did was tell that girl how I felt the moment I knew.” He takes a steadying breath. “We had a few, precious years. I got every month, day, hour and second that she had left to love her.”

Ty Lee lifts her head up to look at him, but he can’t meet her gaze. “You can’t control when that clock stops,” he says. “But you _can_ control when it starts. Don’t waste any of your potential time together, promise?”

Ty Lee nods; he finally looks at her, and sees that she’s on the brink of tears. He knows she’ll keep it.

When she walks him to the door, he hears the bathroom door open, but when he turns to look at the source of the sound, the door to the second bedroom is already closing. Ty Lee hugs him tightly, wishes him well.

And even though it’s an amicable split, he can’t bring himself to run back upstairs to knock on the door and get his umbrella back.

It’s not raining that bad anyways.

* * *

Zuko’s lying on Mai’s bed, watching as she types something on her computer. “So who’s this person that Ty Lee is having over?”

Mai shrugs. “Just some guy from school,” she says. “They’ve only been on one or two dates.”

He nods. “You talking to anyone lately?” he asks. 

Mai pauses whatever she’s working on, shoots him an icy stare. “Are _you_?” Her tone is accusatory, and also a bit defensive.

He’s not looking to fight with her, and doesn’t want to challenge _whatever_ just soured her mood. “No,” he says. “But we just got a new lead singer for the band, Chan. He’s attractive.”

This makes Mai scoff, he smiles at her. “ _Just_ attractive? Oh Zuko, how you _swoon!_ ” 

“Hey, if Ty Lee can go on a few coffee dates, why can’t I?” 

This time, Mai turns in his chair to fix him with a look. “If the only thing you like about him is his _face_ , it kinda sounds like a waste of time.”

Zuko shrugs. “Maybe on those dates I’ll learn a thing or two about him.”

Mai rolls her eyes. “With a name like ‘Chan’, I highly doubt there’s anything remotely interesting about him.”

This makes Zuko laugh, and even Mai cracks a smile.

“Hey, if you need to use the bathroom, you better go now. I want to take a shower.”

So Zuko does, and on his way back to Mai's room he hears the door to Ty Lee's room open just as he's slipping back inside.

“I think he’s leaving,” he says. 

May hums thoughtfully. “Told you they weren’t serious.”

They wait to hear the front door close, and then say their goodbyes. Zuko picks up his laptop bag, unsure _why_ he brought it when he knows he never gets any work done at Mai’s place. Mai starts getting ready for her shower, and Zuko heads for the front door.

What he sees propped up against the wall makes him nearly drop his bag. Instead, he places his laptop bag on the couch and scoops up what he had immediately recognized as _his_ umbrella. The one he lost almost a year earlier on St. Patrick’s Day.

“Okay, this is _so_ weird,” he says, going into Ty Lee’s room. “I could have sworn–”

What he sees makes him stop. Ty Lee, sitting on the bed, head in her hands, unmistakably in tears and potentially… in crisis?

Yeesh. Zuko’s been there.

“Hey…” Zuko says, sitting next to her. He reaches around her shoulders with one arm, pulling her close, his opposite hand finds hers and squeezes. “Are you okay?” Stupid question. _Clearly_ not. “Did he hurt you?” _I’ll kill him._

Ty Lee actually laughs between sobs. “No, no, nothing like that…” she assures, squeezing him back. “Something he said just… made me realize something.”

“What?”

He hears her take a deep breath. “I have feelings for Mai,” she says. “I have to tell her.” The unspoken ‘ _I’m scared_ ’ rings loud and clear. 

Zuko gives her the comfort she needs, holding her until the tears stop falling. It’ll be okay, he assures her. He knows, no matter the answer, Mai would never hurt her.

But he would never assume to speak for Mai.

So with a kiss to her forehead, he wishes her the best of luck, tells her to be brave, and leaves just as Mai turns off the water.

He takes his umbrella home.

5.

With only 5 weeks before the Aang and Katara’s wedding, it should have legitimately been the end of the world when their band had suddenly dropped out.

His heart ached for them, Katara was already in dangerous Bridezilla territory, and even Aang didn’t have a solution.

He was walking out of his lecture when a bright voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Sokka!” 

He turns and smiles. “Ty Lee!”

She immediately runs to him and practically leaps into his arms. Her happiness and exuberance are refreshing. It had been about three months since their little heart-to-heart; he’d felt so raw leaving her apartment, so guilty for making her feel bad, too.

“Should I be jealous?”

Ty Lee pulls back from the hug and skips back to her friend. “Of course not, silly,” she gives her a peck on the cheek, then grabs a hold of her arm. “Sokka, this is Mai,” she says, then, leaning in, adds, “I followed your advice.”

Sokka, struck, clutches his chest. He’s sure he must look absolutely mushy in that moment, but he can’t help it. So much pain has come from losing Yue, and yet his advice helped bring happiness to this couple. Remembering himself, he extends a hand. “It’s great to meet you,” he says. 

“She’s my roommate!” Ty Lee tips her head onto my Mai’s shoulder. “Slash-soulmate.” 

“I’m so happy for you both,” he says earnestly as Mai takes his hand. She rolls her eyes at Ty Lee’s ‘soulmate’ talk, but it’s easy to tell by her smile that she’s absolutely smitten.

“Thanks,” Mai says.

“So that’s what _we’ve_ been up to,” Ty Lee says. “How about you, Sokka?”

Sokka tells them about the wedding, how The Nomads suddenly dropped out this week, leaving Katara and Aang scrambling for a band at the last minute. By the end of his story, the two of them are smiling.

“Sokka,” Ty Lee says. “You’re gonna save that wedding!”

“Our friend is in a band,” Mai informs. “When did you say the wedding was again?”

* * *

The night before the wedding, Zuko’s staying with Chan at his place upstate. It’s only a short drive from the wedding venue, and surely, they can survive one night without blowing up at each other.

He is wrong.

Suddenly, their weeks’ worth of fighting escalates into an argument over “whose band it is”. And Zuko always insisted that it was a _group_ , and that there was no _leader_ of the band, but Chan suggests that as the lead singer, it was his band, and that the rest were all his back up. 

And Zuko decides that he absolutely cannot spend the night there. Not in his bed, not on his couch, not even on the shitty futon in the office. So he calls an Uber, grabs his bag and his bass guitar and walks out the door. Chan is still screaming at him when he leaves, but his wrath has nothing on his father’s, so he calls over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow,” and gets in the car.

It’s a long shot that the hotel has any availability, but it pays off. They tell him that it’ll take some time for the room to be prepared, so he goes and waits at the bar.

* * *

The rehearsal dinner is a big success.

Katara and Aang are so ridiculously and beautifully in love, so Sokka splurges on a ridiculously expensive bottle of Scotch and gathers everyone on the patio later than evening for a toast.

He’s pouring the last glass– his own– when some jock-ass pretty boy storms onto the patio from the front gate and bodily shoulders past him. His glass and the bottle fall to the ground and shatter.

Sokka spins on his heel. “Dude, what is your _problem?_ ”

The man barely acknowledges him. “Looking for someone.”

Sokka reaches for his shoulder, and the man turns. “That’s no reason to be a total jackass.”

He looks unimpressed. “And you are..?”

“The best man,” he says, gesturing to the broken bottle and glass. “We’re toasting my _sister’s_ wedding. You just broke a $200 bottle of Scotch.”

The guy gives them a critical once over, looks at Katara, then back at him. “That your sister?” he asks. He looks at Aang. “Piece like that marrying a shrimp like you? Sorry pal, hope you got a prenup.”

In that moment, he sees Aang’s expression darken. He knows they both feel rage toward this pompous jackass for suggesting his sister would cheat, and Sokka feels it twofold.

Aang has to get married tomorrow, take wedding photos, _he_ can’t get in a fight.

But Sokka can. 

He pulls his fist back and decks the guy in his stupid face. His hand hurts like hell, but it’s semi-worth it for the sound of his friends cheering and hollering for him. The man challenges him with a glare, but then, surprisingly, doesn’t hit him back.

A dark bruise is already forming on his face when he turns tail and heads into the lobby.

Katara sighs. “Sokka, please don’t get arrested tonight.” 

Sokka kisses her forehead. “I’ll try,”

He’s glad he defended his sister’s honor and such, but he’s still bumming hard that he didn’t get to have any of the bougie Scotch.

* * *

Chan storms into the bar and Zuko freezes. He never expected him to _follow_ him here.

The large red mark on his face gives him pause, enough to maintain eye contact without wavering when he comes up to the bar. At the last second, Chan turns to the bartender. “Can I get some ice?” he demands. “The best man just punched me in the face.”

Zuko can’t help it, it’s _so_ karmically correct that he laughs.

“This funny to you?” Chan turns on him.

It is. But he tries to gain his composure to say otherwise. Chan doesn’t give him a chance.

“You know what? I don’t need this,” he says. “You can keep your stupid fucking band, I quit!”

Zuko’s eyes go wide. The solution he didn’t know he needed.

The bartender hands him a bag of his ice, and Chan turns to him one last time. He waves the bag of ice in Zuko’s face before applying it to his new bruise. Chan grins cruelly. “At least _mine_ will go away in a few days.” 

It’s a low blow to go for his scar, but Zuko doesn’t take the bait. He’s free of Chan, he lets him leave with the last word.

When he’s gone, Zuko turns back to the bartender. “I’d like to buy the best man a glass of your finest Scotch.”

* * *

When they all come in several minutes later, the bartender passes him a glass. Sokka stills, looks at his friends. “This from one of you?”

They all shake their heads, he looks at the bartender, who simply shrugs, smiling knowingly. The bar is empty, so whoever bought him the drink is long gone. 

He accepts it, sniffs it, and takes a swig. _Holy shit_ that is smooth!!

“What is this?” he asks the bartender. 

When he tells them, Sokka laughs. Sokka had dropped 200 bucks on a 30-year single malt Scotch, decked a guy, only to receive a glass of the thirty- _five_ year Scotch as his prize.

+1

The wedding is absolutely beautiful. Katara and Aang’s vows make him ugly cry, and Sokka can only hope that it’s the one shot their wedding photographer missed.

At the reception, the replacement wedding band has the crowd up and dancing the entire night. Suki elbows him later in the night while they’re slow dancing, she nods her head in the direction of the band.

He looks up, and freezes. The bass player is swaying gently to the music, a gentle smile on his face. Half of his hair is pulled back, the rest cascading over his shoulders. 

Whoever’s in charge of lighting deserves a raise. The harsh lines of his scar do nothing to take away from his luminescence. His eyes are a dazzling gold, his hands pluck skillfully at the strings. After a moment, his eyes slip close, as if truly lost in the music.

“You should go talk to him,” Suki says. She’s grinning at him when he finally meets her gaze again.

“He’s a bit busy,” Sokka deadpans.

But damn, does he want to. He keeps his eye on him the rest of the night, wills him to look his way, but he doesn’t. 

And then suddenly the “goodbyes” start coming. He’s getting pulled into hugs, selfies, and wet-cheeked kisses from his family. By time most of the crowd has left, the caterers starting to pick up the linens, the band is packed up and gone. Sokka feels his heart sink, though he can’t admit his disappointment to Suki when she asks. 

“You sure you can’t spend the night?” Katara asks him later. She and Aang had hardly left each other’s sides the whole night, as it should be. They’re together now, sitting at the last table to be stripped. Katara has her head on Aang’s shoulder, Suki and Toph sit on either side of them.

He hears the patter of rain against the roof of the tent. 

“Yeah,” Toph chimes. “It isn’t too late to get trashed and pass out on our floor!”

Sokka shakes his head. “I’d love to stay, but the night is mostly over anyways, yeah?” Katara reaches across the table for his hand, gives it a squeeze. “You look beautiful, sis. I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” she smiles. “I know you stayed later than you wanted to, I appreciate it. Good luck at your interview tomorrow.”

They hug him, and he heads back into the hotel to bring down his packed bags.

Sokka has always been a sucker for the smell of rain, so when the front desk clerk asks him to wait while the valet brings his car around, he opts to do so outside under the awning. 

Down the walkway, waiting by the curb, he sees a man holding a blue umbrella. He has what appears to be a guitar case in his other hand. He turns his head to the side and _oh my god, it’s him_! The bass player for the wedding band– he’s still here.

He remembers the advice he gave Ty Lee, how well it worked for her. 

Without pausing to acknowledge the weight of the pull tugging him, he jogs out from under the awning and taps him on the shoulder. “Hi,” he says, smiling.

The man, blessedly, smiles back at him. It’s an awkward, shy little thing but it makes his chest flutter all the same. “Hi,” he parrots. “You’re the best man.”

“Guilty,” Sokka grins. “And you’re the bass player.”

“Yeah– hey, get under here,” he says, holding the umbrella a little higher. Sokka nods and obliges, the man shifts his case so that it’s front of him, allowing Sokka more room.

“Allow me,” Sokka says, reaching for the umbrella. After all, this guy has his hands full with the case. And it gives Sokka _something_ to do with at least one of his hands. 

“Okay, thank you,” he smiles. “Oh, and thanks for punching my ex by the way. He totally had that coming.”

“That guy was your _ex_?” Sokka laughs. “The pleasure was all mine–” Something in his brain _clicks_ into place. “You bought me that drink?”

The bass player shrugs. “Seemed only fair, not sure he would have quit the band otherwise.”

“Wow,” Sokka says. “Well, thanks.” The air around them seems charged somehow, and Sokka positively vibrates with the urge to find something, _anything_ to say to keep this conversation going.

“I have to admit, I already know you… Sokka.” he says. 

“What, how?”

“I took one of your classes,” he says, then, grinning, adds. “English 206.”

“Oh god _no_ ,” Sokka groans.

“ _Yes_.” 

“Wait, so wouldn’t that make you like… a baby?” he asks, already feeling his hope withering.

“What?” the man gasps. “No you _idiot_ , I’m 29. It’s a certificate program.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, blushing. “So… then maybe I can return the favor sometime, buy _you_ a drink.”

He smiles. “I’d like that.”

“And maybe you could tell me your name, too,” Sokka adds.

He laughs. “Right, sorry, my name is Zuko.”

Gosh, even his _name_ is cute. And he basically just said yes to Sokka asking him out. This isn’t happening.

“So, Zuko,” he says, the name unexpectedly splitting his cheeks. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing with _my_ umbrella?”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko asks. “I bought this, it’s _mine_.”

“No way,” Sokka says, shaking his head. “I left it at Ty Lee’s place a few months back– you _stole_ my umbrella!”

"Sorry pal, this is _my_ umbrella.” Zuk says, shaking his head. “Although, I did lose it for a bit, see I went to this club–”

Wait. “On St. Patrick’s Day.”

His smile falls, Zuko’s looking at him with wide, expressive _gorgeousradiantholyshit_ eyes, mouth agape in shock. “On St. Patrick’s Day.”

“And you left it there…” 

He swallows. “And I left it there…”

Sokka shakes his head, but when he opens his eyes, this is all still very much happening. “You thought you’d never see it again…”

Zuko smiles. “I thought I’d never see it again.”

“Funny how you just…” Sokka gestures vaguely. “Find things.” He hears his voice crack, and Zuko’s eyebrows shoot up. They laugh, it feels light and warm despite the chill of the wind and rain. “Hi,” he says again.

“Hi,” Zuko smiles.

Just then, the valet pulls up with his car. Zuko’s face falls, he opens up his phone, looks at the car in front of him, then pockets it.

“Hey Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” he starts. “Drive you home?”

Zuko’s face brightens again, and Sokka’s feels the wind get knocked out of him all over again. “Okay.” He takes out his phone and cancels the Uber.

Still holding the umbrella, Sokka walks Zuko around to the trunk so he can put his bass in, then to the passenger door. “I’ll give this _right_ back,” he promises, jogging back to the awning for his own bags.

* * *

Zuko can’t believe this is happening. Never could he have imagined himself being driven home by the cute professor from nearly a year ago. He wants to kick himself for not asking _who_ Ty Lee had been seeing that night.

His heart is racing a mile a minute; he’s thankful for the moment to himself in the car to compose himself, but can’t deny the warmth radiating through him when Sokka comes back to the car. He collapses the umbrella while stepping in, then tosses it into the back seat.

“Made more sense than handing you a wet umbrella,” he shrugs, grinning cheekily.

Zuko laughs, it’s objectively _not funny_ but this beautiful man is just so unfairly charming. He gives him his address, and Sokka pulls away from the hotel.

It’s so different from that car ride home with his sister last year. This one is full of stories, warmth, laughter… an undeniable spark that should _frankly_ scare the shit out of him, but he’s too light to fear it.

They talk about his Creative Writing program, how he met Mai and Ty Lee, how when those two got together, his sister moved in with them and they’re _loving_ how little they pay for rent now.

He hangs on every word as Sokka tells him about his building designs, his family and friends, even his dodgeball team. He feels lucky to be the one in the passenger seat, getting to openly watch his face as he gushes about his passions. It’s just like that first lecture, only this time Sokka’s speaking to him, _only_ him.

They get all the way back to his apartment, Sokka passes him his umbrella, and pops the trunk so Zuko can get his bass. He walks around to the front of the car to say thanks. The look on Sokka’s face makes him weak in the knees– he can’t believe how lucky he is to have someone looking at him like _that_.

“Can I call you?” Sokka asks.

Zuko grins. “You can,” he says. “But maybe my number would help?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Sokka curses. “Hold on…” he reaches for his phone. “Ready.”

Sokka enters his number into his phone, saves the contact, and then goes to text him. 

He freezes.

“ _No_.”

Zuko feels his stomach drop. “What?” he asks, dread creeping inside of him.

Sokka turns the phone to him to read. Zuko leans closer and sees his name at the top, followed by a received text message dated a year earlier. 

_‘I’m so sorry… something happened with my sister. Can we reschedule?’_

Zuko stills. “You?”

“This is unbelievable!” Sokka shouts. Zuko recoils. “ _You’re_ the finance guy– the fencing, writing, musician, cat-lover?”

“I have _a_ cat…” Zuko says. “His name is Druk.”

Sokka laughs. “I told my friends that a guy like that was too good to be true,” he says, looking at him. Zuko’s heart is still racing– what a _roller coaster_ of a night, but seeing Sokka’s soft gaze gives him a bit of relief. “Guess I was half-right.”

“So,” Zuko hedges. “We still on for drinks, then?”

“Definitely,” Sokka grins. “Although I’ll be honest, I kinda _hate_ that Aunt Wu set this up.”

Zuko’s chest tightens. Aunt Wu had promised to find Zuko the love of his life. Is that what she promised Sokka, too?

“Uh yeah, uh…” Zuko coughs. “Sorry about cancelling by the way. Something really _did_ come up with my sister.”

Sokka’s smile is small, open, inviting. “Yeah well,” he says. “I’m sorry I never texted back to reschedule. _Really_ sorry now that I’ve met you.”

Zuko’s traitorous heart is threatening to beat right out of his chest. Somehow, he knows, that this is it.

Even when Sokka leans back in his seat, fixes him with a smug little grin and asks: “Rain check?”

**Author's Note:**

> Double thanks to those of you have been keeping up with this whole series!! I'm so appreciative of the love I've been getting on here, tumblr, and Discord 🥺🥺
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the long boi! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated! 💕 More than I've been able to articulate 🥰


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